


Sideways Tree Roots

by Candid_Chaos



Series: In Which "Byakuran Messes Things Up™" [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Drabbles that got too long, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Marshmallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candid_Chaos/pseuds/Candid_Chaos
Summary: Byakuran and Tsunayoshi have a nice chat after a long deliberation, one of them is reaching the point where he'd rather bury his head in a hole than talk to literally anyone else in the mansion, and someone sets off what could only be described as a reality altering Trinisette version of a Rube Goldberg machine.On the bright side, at least the paperwork is over?
Relationships: Byakuran & Sawada Tsunayoshi
Series: In Which "Byakuran Messes Things Up™" [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995772
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. A Nice Chat

Byakuran was not stupid. Sure, there were several _other_ things he certainly was, there was no doubt about that.

Seeing so many versions of the world would leave any being a little unhinged, he supposed. But it was like that for as long as he could remember, his reality never having been anything different. So if the looks the others had given him when he would muse about what another him had done, or who he had murdered within an alternative clam’s family, were actually _real_ looks of concern, then, well, there was nothing to be done. The flashes were unavoidable, and even if he did occasionally take a few pointed looks into the sideways timelines when no one was paying attention, it was mostly to satisfy an idle curiosity.

As a result, he was what the other skies had called an “Unpredictable Liability,” with capital letters of course.

 _It was deserved,_ he chuckled.

Once, the little clam had even asked about what he saw when he “got that faraway look in his eyes.” Or at least something to that effect, the poor boy had been stuttering quite intensely, and if that wasn’t a signal that he’d probably been building the courage to ask about it for some time, Byakuran didn’t know what was. And my, had that been a wholly entertaining conversation! Oh yes, it had taken him a few days to formulate the words to describe it, and he told the clam as much.

True to his word, he’d let himself into the mansion a week later to “deliver” response, taking only _slight_ joy in the startled looks on the Family’s faces when he popped out from under the expensive desk, bag of marshmallows in hand. Refusing to deign a response to the shenanigans (and that was a real mood killer for Byakuran), Tsunayoshi had rushed everyone out of the office, leaving them both alone and to listen to the faraway cries of the storm’s “B-But he’s _dangerous_ , tenth!”

“Byakuran,” Vongola sighed, pointedly _not_ looking at the spots of sticky marshmallow now littering the desk, “I didn’t mean my question as an open invitation! You _know_ how riled up everyone gets when you’re around!”

He smiled, tilting his head slightly in a manner he knew was unnerving, but it was so much fun, so… “This is true.”

Reaching down for another marshmallow and finding it full of nothing but gross sugar dregs, he tossed the marshmallow bag into some corner of the room, aiming vaguely for where he estimated there was an 82% chance a trash can was located. 

As the bag plopped onto the ground and _not_ a trash can, ( _Oh well,_ Byakuran chuckled) Vongola let out a long-suffering sigh. “Is there no getting through to you about _proper_ etiquette?” _Or a way to get you to stop trying to scare me!?_

Byakuran batted his eyelashes innocently, a contemplating finger to his lips. “Hmm, no, I suppose not. But alas,” he said, plopping down into the guest chair and making sure to leave just enough room for Vongola to squeeze by to sit on the head chair. “Are we going to chat or not?”

The exasperated side eye as Vongola squeezed through the gap into the head chair was worth it, at least a little, but this was getting to be a little old now, so- “I acknowledge I’m a bit difficult, but you know it’s because I love you and want you to succeed right?” The soft look on the clam’s face was a good answer, and they relaxed, if marginally, together.

Tossing a few papers off the top of the desk and into the drawers for their own safety, Tsunayoshi smiled. “So? What’s your big response?”

“Yes, I’ve thought long and hard about it,” and he really had, in the end, “And I’ve come up with a good way to explain it. So, you know how _your_ life is a line? Oh, well, I guess in your case it’s a bit of a back and forth scribble across a straight line, but still! And dear Yuni’s is a bit of a zig zag, but mine is different! Mine is a big, strong tree.”

That left Vongola with a strange, confused look on his face. “A… Tree?”

“Yup!” He smiled, producing another, smaller pack of mini marshmallows from his jacket pockets. “It’s a big strong vertical tree, but that vertical tree has tons of vertical roots and being the tree, or at least part of it, I know all about the roots and the trunk and the leaves, right!

But I don’t think even a tree would consciously think about every part of itself at every moment, so it only knows what it needs to know at that point. Like me, on this branch, and I know all the branches around me and some of the leaves closest to me, but I don’t think about the roots or the rest of the trunk, because that’s quite a lot to think about, right?”

“Wait, are you the tree or the branch?” Tsunayoshi interrupted. “Or… both?”

“Both, both,” Byakuran nodded, happy that he seemed to be getting the gist of it. “Anyway, sometimes I think about the rest of the tree when I’m bored, or I get a little intrusive thought about that branch I can kind of see on the horizon, and that’s why I sometimes look so far away, because I am! But since I _am_ the tree, I can know all of myself if I really wanted to. Of course, I wouldn’t try that because of what usually happens if I try to take on too many timelines at once or in one body, and you remember how that ended last time-“

“Yes. You can skip that part,” the kid interrupted again, sweating slightly. After a long, quiet, awkward moment, in which Byakuran refused to be the first one to speak, he continued, “So you know everything sideways, but not really.”

“Succinct! Yes.” Stuffing a few marshmallows into his mouth and putting a single one onto the desk for Tsunayoshi, he grinned crookedly. “ _Mutt mat’s mhy myou_ -“ A deep gulp, and the marshmallows certainly were delicious! “-why you two are so great! You get me, and no one else really does, I think, and it would be much too boring to stand without either of you around!”

The look that answered that was a deeply conflicted one, certainly not one warranted for this conversation, and he found himself pouting.

“That’s what I worry about sometimes, Byakuran. You would be much worse without either of us… tempering… you." Vongola's voice was deep, and serious, a lilt he didn't often take. 

Byakuran’s mind wandered, thinking, _Tempering, hah! If I wanted, I could- ah, but I promised I wouldn’t. Not_ here _, anyways._

Reading his thoughts, a trait certainly picked up from the baby, Vongola’s look turned even more concerned than before, if such a thing were possible. A new, fresh sigh, and,” …You know how you are.”

“Ah, yes! I know how I can be, I’ve seen it enough,” Byakuran acknowledged. “But I won’t do anything, I’ve promised, and I always uphold my promises.” Another awkward pause. “ _It would be boring, anyways_ …” he muttered.

“Right, well. You’ve gained some sympathy from me, if that were possible,” Vongola chuckled. “You know how we both have it.” Rising from the seat, looking at some old, fancy pocket watch in his coat for the time, and my had it gotten much later than it was supposed to, he smiled brightly at his former mortal enemy.

“We’ll have to pick this up later,” he chuckled, holding open the office door politely. “But I’ve got to meet with the _reformed_ Estraneo in five minutes, so. You know how it is,” he sighed, throwing up air quotes for the Family's new moniker.

Byakuran stood, walking over to the large, fancily dressed stained glass window adorning the office, admiring the way it glinted in the sunlight, all the while ignoring the clearly outstretched offer of going through the door like a normal person, but…

Tsunayoshi twirled around to glare at him, one hand on the door and the other flailing, sensing his intentions. “ _Don’t you dare,”_ he growled. “The paperwork-“

That was almost an offer, so how could he not, now? A large crash, shattering, and a bang for good measure, and Byakuran was out the window, crystalline wings flaming behind him as he rose into the stratosphere. Leaving the cries of “paperwork!” behind him and chuckling into the clouds, reminiscing about how he had it _so_ much better than the other hims around, it seemed like a really nice day.

Aside from the _very real_ murder attempt probably coming from the baby later for destroying such a pretty window, this was a pretty productive conversation!

And, well, life’s not that bad when the three great skies have each other.

…

_What a nice day it is, today!_


	2. The Big Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuna is tired of everyone's antics, and wants a vacation.  
> Gokudera is too busy worrying about curses to really listen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has no business being so long, but please enjoy.

It took an embarrassingly long amount of time to find someone willing to repair the window Byakuran had so fancifully smashed through. At first, no one wanted to come to Vongola Mansion, because of the haunted rumors (Tsuna guessed he had Mukuro to thank for that. Several of the staff had recently taken to leaving out food offerings to some kind of ghostly apparition that was _definitely_ not a mist, and _definitely_ resisted all attempts at civility. The sheepish looks he received from Chrome later on in the day had all but confirmed it).

All this paperwork had left Tsuna with a _major_ headache.

Still, it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, considering his elements’ tendency to break everything within sight every other week. Of course, when you combine that with the mysteriously small number of repairs requested from the Varia that stank of funny business, it left a vivid picture and a miserable Tsunayoshi.

The later in the week it became, the further his headache progressed. He took to rubbing his head in small circles in a desperate effort for relief, until someone commented on it, and he snapped-

“Can I just have _one_ moment!” he snarled, headache pulsing through what felt like was his _soul_ , at this point.

A shriek of alarm and a dull thud answered his outburst. “S-Sorry tenth!”

One hand still rubbing small circles on his left temple, he spared a vague glance at the offender. _Of course_ , Gokudera had nearly fallen over in his rush for prostration, crouching and whimpering small begs for forgiveness.

“Forgive me, tenth!”

Tsuna scowled, not at Gokudera but the headache. “It’s-”

“Forgive me!” the storm interrupted.

 _Okay, that was not helpful._ “It’s fi-”

_“Please!”_

Seeing no end to this cycle, Tsuna let out a small, reassuring pulse of flame, a _lifesaving_ trick that Xanxus had taught him.

(“It’ll calm your shitty elements down, probably,” Xanxus had sneered during one of the few quiet moments that they’d shared. “That, or it’ll make it worse. And if that happens, don’t you _dare_ call me, or blame me, or whatever, tiny boss.”

Tsuna’s skeptical look at the last bit didn’t help show his enthusiasm, it seemed, since Xanxus had immediately huffed and glared.

“It’ll be fine. Mammon said it works, and I didn’t even have to pay ‘im for that.” He shrugged.

 _Make things ‘worse’ would be-_ worse! “Mammon is notoriously unreliable for ‘Sky Matters,’ and you _know_ it, Xanxus.” Tsuna tried to put delicately. “Have you actually done this befor-.”

And Tsuna turned around to find that he had been talking to an empty room.)

Gokudera’s reaction was immediate, easing his flames into the pulse in a manner not that unlike a cold cat to something warm.

With a great sigh and mild effort, the storm stood up and bowed slightly in an effort to regain some of his composure (and dignity, in Tsuna’s opinion, but no one would ever hear him admit that). “I-I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

Situation satisfactorily back to normal, Tsuna clapped his hands together and smiled innocently. “The progress of the repairman? You’ve found one, right?”

Gokudera visibly flinched at that. “A-Ah. No, you see-.”

“It’s been _weeks_ now, Gokudera!” He whined, throwing his arms up and twirling dramatically in the office chair that he’d insisted have wheels for his sanity and entertainment (the source of which was mostly annoying Reborn with the squeaks). “ _Someone_ has to be willing to come to the mansion by now!”

“Ah, well… not really. You see,” the storm gulped, “there’s a, um, _reputation_.”

_What._

Tsuna frowned, confused. “I thought the mansion had a great reputation for contractors and the rebuilders. We do it often enough.” _And it really doesn’t make sense, we rebuilt the west wing last week._

Gokudera looked down as if to readjust his belt and box animal attached to it, but Tsuna wasn’t fooled by the attempt to avert his gaze from a disappointed boss. “Right, we usually do, but not currently,” he said, prodding the belt’s adjustment buckle. “The Estraneo saw Byakuran leave as they were arriving, and rumors never really _stop_ so much as they _spread_ , so they’ve maybe, err… told most of the contractors about Byakuran’s involvement.”

“Byakuran’s _involvement.”_ Tsuna repeated skeptically. “What, do they think the Gesso are going to curse them?”

“Um. Y-yes, basically.” The storm stuttered, fidgeting slightly. “Has anyone told you about Gesso’s _situation_?”

“Aside from the obvious, I didn’t think there was much there.” Tsuna frowned, a finger to his lips while he considered the options. The only answer he received was an alarmed look, so he quickly added, “Outside of Vongola or Giglio Nero, I mean. Don’t think I’ve forgotten _past events_ , Hayato.”

It took a few moments of a resolution of some sort to form in the storm’s mind before he let out a deep sigh. He finally nodded and said ,“I _know_ , and you _know_ I don’t approve of _any_ contact, but- I… I guess I understand.” A sharp cough, and, “…Anyway, the reputation. There’s a reason why Byakuran never complains about his home being destroyed, tenth. Apparently, he’s taken to chasing off anyone who comes to repair it, _and_ he’s taken to repairing everything himself as of late. But the repairs are done with the aid of his mist, and-.”

Tsuna shuddered, his intuition blaring alarms at _that_ bit of info. Even without it, he knew what Byakuran was capable of, both good and bad. “He’s doing some terrifying renovations, isn’t he,” Tsuna interrupted.

“Yes, tenth!” Gokudera smiled. “You’re exactly right! I heard the workmen chatting during the rebuild last week, and they were all together terrified of him. They’ve named his activities ‘The Marshmallow Curse.’”

“Um.” Tsuna sweatdropped. “Isn’t that a bit on the nose? And- _wait,_ what does that even have to do with _our_ mansion?”

“When I heard about it, I went right into investigating! It was such an intriguing name! But then... well, normally I’d be thrilled to investigate a curse of any regard, but since I know the instigator in this case, I find myself not so willing,” Gokudera chuckled awkwardly. “I did, however, find out what the fuss is about. That being, Byakuran threatened the last team to show up at his mansion with ‘damnation against a marshmallow hellscape set aflame,’ if they ever so much as touched any of his ‘innovations’ again.”

 _That’s… not good._ And- _Oh great._ Someone tried to sneak into the room during the previously loud conversation, the door opening so slowly that he probably shouldn’t have noticed it, if it weren’t for his endless training for such things. Bitter and jaded against shenanigans of that nature, he chose to ignore it. “And?”

“ _And_ , they think the threat extends to fixing the window, or anything else he touches with those _sugary_ hands.” He paused to pointedly _not_ look at the stains on what was formerly the most handsome desk in the mansion. “I can’t do anything about it, tenth. They’re too scared.”

“I’ll see if I can’t fix rapport, even if it kills me,” Tsuna grumbled. “We’ll never get through the next month if the contractors stop showing up to fix whenever Lambo and Kyoya have their spats.”

The flicker in the corner of his eye caught his attention before he say anything else. Since both he and his intuition knew exactly who it was, it was more annoying than anything else.

It seemed Gokudera had finally caught it too, suddenly straightening his posture and putting a manic smile on his face. “I’ll- um- get back to my division,” he rushed out, before turning and nearly sprinting through the doorway.

Gokudera long gone, Tsuna turned in his chair to glare at the potted plant that _most definitely did not hold anyone behind it._ “Really? _Again_ with the sneaking around?”

…

“C’mon, you _know_ I _know_ you’re there.”

…

 _The Big Guns, then._ “I’ll get Lambo.”

…

“You wouldn’t,” came the creaky voice of a teenager.

 _There we go._ Tsuna straightened in the chair, smirking. “It’s the _least_ I could do. I’m not going to be able to enjoy your teen years forever, you know.”

With a mighty creak from the old plant, the curly haired teenager emerged, black eyes positively fuming with silent fury. “Least _my ass_ , Dame-Tsuna,” he growled, arms crossed tightly.

“Don’t be like that, Reborn,” Tsuna chuckled, motioning for him to take an actual seat. A few terse moments of glared fury later, both were settled into chairs and Tsuna no longer feared for his life.

Not that he’d ever really been. Reborn had been increasingly bitter ever since he’d hit what Hibari had been calling his “Growing Carnivore” phase- and an increasingly absolute _pain._ His voice had gone squeaky, and not the formerly cute baby squeaky, of course, but more so the teenage voice cracking squeak, which had driven Reborn insane with some kind of a need to prove he’s still the world’s best hitman. Without talking. And _that_ led to him sneaking around _everywhere_ , to the point where Tsuna was convinced his end goal was to prevent everyone from seeing him entering or exiting rooms of any kind. Oh, and a couple attempted “assassinations” (which ended up being mysteriously obtained paintballs full of cherry flavoring) here and there didn’t help.

And- _Oh, that bastard, I can see you putting away Leon! You were definitely going to shoot me!_ Tsuna was getting a little tired of the mind games.

“I know you were here for the conversation, so I’d appreciate your input, Reborn,” Tsuna said, politely ignoring the chameleon’s movements as he returned to the hat brim.

Reborn scoffed. “Intimidate them.”

“ _Really?_ Just last week you told me ‘A real mafia boss knows how to settle matters without violence,’ or something.” Tsuna gave him best side-eye he felt he could get away with. “I thought you said you never go back on your word?”

“Matters concerning the Mare are different,” Reborn glared, one hand idly adjusting the pacifier tied around his neck. “I don’t _like_ him.”

“You don’t like half my family,” Tsuna groaned. “Or _Family_ , for that matter. That’s not a good excuse anymore, and you know it.”

Reborn looked up at Leon, some kind of a quiet conversation passing between the two, until the chameleon stuck his tongue out with a quiet _blep_ and the teen nodded. The debate settled, he turned his gaze back to Tsuna. “Leon’s point is best.”

Tsuna groaned and planted his face into his desk, narrowly avoiding the sticky parts. “You’re all messing with me today, aren’t you? There’s probably not even a curse.”

From the darkness of faceplant-into-beautiful-desk-land, a voice shattered his peace. “Take your face off the desk, Dame-Tsuna. The Mare’s done enough to tarnish it.”

Tsuna relented slightly, adjusting his faceplant so that a single eye could see out and point a sufficiently long-suffering glare at the baby-turned-teenager. “What exactly did Leon say about Byakuran?”

“Nothing,” Reborn smirked.

Utterly over everything and refusing to say anything to that cheeky response, Tsuna twirled a hand in the universal “get on with it” gesture instead.

“Come now, Tsunayoshi, you have your elements for a reason,” Reborn chided. “Make them do it.”

“I thought it was more of some kind of a magical need for matching colors, but okay,” Tsuna relented, raising his head onto crossed arms so that he could look Reborn in the eyes. “You want me to just _make them_ figure it out?”

“Yes,” the teen said with an entirely too self-satisfied nod. Even Leon joined in, bobbing up and down on the ribbon excitedly. “I’ll even help you go an extended vacation for the next week if you agree to it.”

“Don’t think you’re fooling me into thinking that this _isn’t_ an excuse to mess with everyone in the mansion while I’m not around to yell at you for it,” Tsuna groaned, bending to grab a pen and paper from one of the desk drawers. “Sign it and I’ll believe you-.”

_Oh._

Tsuna looked up to an empty chair and nearly cried. He opted to crumble the paper instead, stopping only when he saw a strange glint on the paper, and-

_“When did you sign this!?”_

_* * *_

When Tsuna had tracked him down the next day with an oddly strained look on his face, Gokudera didn’t think much of it. Not even when tenth entrusted him with curing the Marshmallow Curse, though that was certainly strange, considering the conversation the previous day. But then the nail in the coffin was hammered straight into his heart in the form of two simple sentences.

“I expect it done by next week,” Tsunayoshi had smiled sweetly at him. “I’m counting on you!”

And before Gokudera had even blinked or opened his mouth, the sky was rushing off to parts unknown (and a beach very, _very_ far away, but he would find that out much later), leaving him no room to ask for specifics.

Of course, since he’d been attempting to find the contractors in the first place, he’d assumed that it was a very well-informed decision to entrust the task to him.

And he had certainly been absolutely _chuffed_ that his sky had trusted him enough to be allowed such an important mission, at first. But then, when he’d come in to ask for a list of the available contractors from the secretary, he saw his doomed fate approaching in the form of an empty page.

“There are _no_ contractors left!?” Gokudera cried out. “Not even the S tier companies!?”

But the answer remained no, so he was faced with the very real possibility of either bribing the Varia to fix the window or doing it himself. Being a sane man, he chose the latter, and he spent the rest of the day researching techniques and tools for the job, until he was sufficiently confident that he could at least make a reasonable attempt.

A good night’s rest and his new tools brought in a small bag sufficiently warded against the evil artisan spirits, he let himself into Tsuna’s office and got to work, removing the boards that had replaced the window for quite some time now.

He took out the glass pieces he’d prepared and started using his various flames for the work, cutting and dissolving where it was needed, propagating and hardening the edges to prevent further breaks.

It had been a good few hours before he went to grab another tool from the bag and he’d found a fist of something strange caught on his hammer. Confused, he held it up to his face, trying to figure out how a strange thing had gotten into his toolkit… until he held it slightly too close to his still flaming hand, and it had caught fire with a sickly sweet scent.

His brain short-circuited at that, winding stripped gears, until it clicked that it was a _flaming_ _marshmallow_. He dropped the hammer and run off in terror, not being prepared to come face to face with his fascination of the Gesso’s curse.

Gokudera had taken a good half hour of “me-time” before he returned to the room, paling at the damage that the unattended storm-flamed marshmallow had caused. _I’m being silly_ , he told himself repeatedly, ignoring the rest of his U.M.A. obsessed brain for the moment.

With the day nearly over and nothing much accomplished aside from a _very_ clean office floor, Gokudera decided to pause his efforts and take a self-indulgent relaxation break in the tenth’s chair.

He lined himself up with the chair and gulped, the very notion of disrespecting Tsuna’s office not normally something he would even entertain as an intrusive thought- before he jumped up, feeling a sharp pain against his butt.

Annoyed, he twirled around to look at what could’ve done such a thing, before sweet-smelling flames met his vision _again-_

_* * *_

“Reborn!” Lambo pouted and stood in the teenager’s way, cheeks puffed up and red in some show of dominance. “What’re you doing with that lighter? We’re not supposed to have _those-.”_ He grabbed for it, but Reborn easily evaded his attempts at confiscation.

“Well, anyway, you’re breaking the rules!” Lambo pouted.

Reborn didn’t even stop his power walk down the hallway to respond, instead speaking without turning his head as he walked. “Go help Gokudera, stupid cow.” And that was that, as he turned the corner and Lambo absently shrugged, figuring that he would never be able catch the Arcobaleno anyways.

But then Gokudera rounded the other corner of the hallway, and Lambo startled. He looked really ragged and almost… scared? _Reborn’s doing, probably._

“Lambo!” Gokudera cried, running up to him. “You’re in charge of curing the curse and fixing tenth’s window. You have till Monday! Bye!” And then he ran off too, maybe after Reborn…?

_Wait, what curse!?_

“Come back, Dummy-Dera!” _Oh, he’s long gone._

Well there was no way that _Lambo_ was going to do something so stupid. Gokudera had been having trouble all week with this, hadn’t he? Well, he was no scape goat!

(He wasn’t a goat at all, actually!)

But he knew someone who _was_ stupid like a goat… well, Gokudera wasn’t available. So, second pick!

_* * *_

Yamamoto had just come back from what Squalo had insisted on calling an “Assassin’s Rotisserie,” which ended up being a delicious mid-week buffet of sushi at a very cute cat-café when Lambo came running up to him. Still half distracted with the implications of the secret assassin’s hangout being a cat-café, he hadn’t really been listening when Lambo started shouting longwinded commands at him. He’d only tuned back into the one-sided conversation when Lambo mentioned “it’s for Tsuna, or he’ll be _disappointed!”_

“Oh, we can’t disappoint Tsuna! What were you saying, Lambo?” He’d perked up, smiled at the kid.

Lambo groaned loudly, only just realizing that Yamamoto’s renowned ability to _not_ listen had kicked in. “Fix Tsuna’s window before Monday, he said so. Or, um… he’ll be _sad!”_

“Oh, well, we can’t have that, little-buddy!” Yamamoto bent down to pat his shoulders reassuringly, but the kid seemed to not really care, rolling his eyes in response.

“As long as I don’t have to do it. Bye!” Lambo turned to leave, but seemed to be thinking about something, before turning back and spouting out, “ _Alsofixthecursekaybye!”_ And off he went.

_Well, that was weird. But it’s for Tsuna!_

So, Yamamoto took out his sword and made his way to Tsuna’s office, brainstorming ways to cut up a new window out of glass.

_* * *_

At first, he’d been willing to ignore the shattering sounds that seemed to be coming from the vicinity of the offices. It didn’t seem _too_ loud, in the morning, but as the day progressed, the shattering only seemed to be worse and worse, until it was a constant droning sound and he’d had more than enough.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in the mansion, but he couldn’t deny the efforts of this cozy purple-themed bedroom, especially after so many uncomfortable years under his belt at the various life altering facilities in his life. Even if Tsunayoshi had it commissioned for a show of formalities, rather than an actual residence.

Content to be the troublemaker in the group if it meant a good nap (and all situations otherwise, honestly), he’d shifted himself into the office with his flames, only half surprised when he found what seemed to be the mental breakdown of Tsunayoshi’s rain.

All around the swordsman lay piles of colorful glass, glued together in spurts here and there with an application of pressure and rain flames to relax the chemical bonds. That seemed a little advanced for the Yamamoto’s brain, however, so it was decidedly more accurate to describe it as a mess of glass shards and rain flames in a large, slightly melted pile.

“Oh, hey, Mukuro,” the swordsman smiled, slicing a glass panel into a jagged shape. “I was thinking of making it a phoenix! Does this look close yet?”

 _It looks like you’ve lost your marbles and then shattered them into fifth grade art class,_ he was tempted to say, but since that wouldn’t really help the situation and he’d been attempting to get back into Tsunayoshi’s good graces in order to purchase some hats for Fran, he refrained begrudgingly. Thus, instead he asked, “Who left you in charge of the window?”

“Oh, Tsuna did! And Lambo, maybe,” he grinned, setting down the glass and sheathing the sword back into its sheath. “Did you want to help?”

“No, not really,” Mukuro growled before he could stop himself. _Just keep thinking of the hats._ “I mean, _sure_.”

“Great!” Yamamoto shouted, nearly startling him. “It has to be done before Monday, good luck!”

The mist stood there confused as he left, the door slamming shut. _Well, more blackmail, I suppose._

Opting to focus on the task, he walked over to the glass pile and gently ushered it right out the window, cushioning its fall against the grass with an illusionary cloud. While he may be, well, _him,_ he also appreciated everyone’s need to have a nice midday nap without glass crashing about left and right.

 _Not that this is hard,_ he mused.

Mukuro rummaged around the room for something small to anchor the window’s illusion to, finally achieving his goal when he found three marshmallows stuck inside the potted plant by the door. A twist of his trident and a quick illusion that’s entirely too real for its own good (but would be something Tsunayoshi would probably appreciate, at least), and his work was done, blackmail secured, and time sufficiently passed for a nap to be in order.

_* * *_

The boxing clubs in Italy were particularly boring and full of several non-extreme people, Ryohei found. None of them would even box with him after they’d seen his first round, anyway!

Bored and _extremely_ disappointed in his livelihood’s chances in Italy, he’d decided to visit Tsunayoshi for some guidance on the matter. When he opened the ornate door and found his sky was absent as well, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to practice a little while he waited for him to get back. After all, he would have said something if he was gone, so he must just be in the bathroom, or something.

He shoved a low-level grade of sun flame into his fists and punched the air, shuffling on his feet and trying to stay loose as he pretended the obstacles in the office were other fighters grabbing for his legs.

One guy grabbed for his legs with his wheeled appendages and whoosh, Ryohei feinted quickly, fists coming up to hit an invisible enemy. But oh no, he was on the defensive now, the potted plant was advancing! Ryohei backed up slightly, back against that fancy window Tsunayoshi liked.

Suddenly realizing his precarious position, he carefully backed away from the delicate thing, fists dimming. Satisfied with the distance, he re-lit his fists and punched, and there goes another man, and-

_Oh no-_

He felt something squish under his feet, looking down much too late to find a bundle of marshmallows hidden beside the desk’s corner inlet, and found himself pitching forward with fists stretched out toward the window-

And straight through the window, since it seemed someone had taken to repairing it with an illusion instead of the real thing.

Ryohei landed harshly on the grass below, narrowly avoiding a large pile of broken glass and a small paper on top, written in Mukuro’s hand that read “Clean up before Monday when Tsunayoshi returns, or I will have your heads”-

_Oh, that’s where the window went._

He blinked confusedly as three small marshmallows fell from the air and smacked him in the face, one landing in his gaping mouth as he processed the situation. _Extremely strange!_ He thought as he extended his flames to his legs to propel him back into the office window.

A quick boost and he landed softly (or what he deemed softly, which the kitchen underneath him would claim is anything but) inside the office again, scratching his head and all together overwhelmed with marshmallows and windows.

_* * *_

Hibari had returned from his mission, expecting to find the little omnivore in his office, but not really all that surprised to find a meddling sun instead. Though he didn’t expect such a mess from the sun.

Ryohei was gaping awkwardly, looking between Hibari and the window rapidly until he got dizzy and wobbled slightly, eye shifting to the carnivore before him. “Oh, hey, Hibari, pal! Are you back from your _extreme_ mission?”

“What is _this_?” Hibari growled, refusing to stoop to responding to such a happy tone.

“A-ah, well, I broke the window again, hahaha! Could you, um, maybe fix it?” He grinned sheepishly, the sun flames around his fists fading.

Hibari glanced at his fists. “Did you _punch_ the window?”

“Um. Maybe. It’s a long story,” he shrugged. “We gotta fix this before Monday! Please lend me your _extreme_ help!”

 _How dare-_ “Sun herbivore. For a blatant lack of discipline and disturbing the peace of Tsunayoshi’s office, I’ll bite you to death,” he growled, drawing his tonfas from his coat as he lit them with his flames.

Ryohei _knew_ what that meant and wanted no part of it, not when the skylark was especially disgruntled from having just come back from a mission! The second Hibari reached into his coat, Ryohei jumped out the broken window, landing smoothly and taking off sprinting down the gardens, shouting, “ _Extreme_ running away!”

And said skylark was expecting that, unsurprisingly. It was the most Ryohei-like thing that he could have possibly done, after all. But first, he pulled out his cellphone, moving the small keychain of Hibird to the side so that he could type the numbers in.

A few rings later, and Kusakabe had been more than willing to call in some of the more artsy members of the _Extended_ Disciplinary Committee to commission a replacement window within 24 hours.

Cracking his knuckles, Hibari slid the phone back into his jacket and jumped out the window, grinning manically when he found Ryohei caught up talking to one of the gardeners.

_* * *_

When Tsuna returned from his vacation a week later, he refused to ask what had happened or how the window was mysteriously repaired to be even _more_ fanciful that before. His elements seemed to share the sentiment, much to his confusion, but he knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth.

And if he pretended not to notice the smug looks Reborn sent his way for the rest of the month, well, that was none of your business.

(Sometimes you’ve got to admit defeat.)

**Author's Note:**

> I thought something more lighthearted was warranted after the last one.  
> Please feel free to throw your criticism at me, as usual. Thanks!


End file.
